


We share

by NalidixicAcid



Series: You belong [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blasphemy, Bottom Chuck Shurley, Chuck Shurley is God, M/M, Missionary Position, Riding, Top Michael (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:02:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24292531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NalidixicAcid/pseuds/NalidixicAcid
Summary: Michael finds the one who's been slipping information to Lucifer.He wants the same things that have been offered to his younger brother.
Relationships: Implied Lucifer/Chuck Shurley, Michael/Chuck Shurley
Series: You belong [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1753717
Comments: 5
Kudos: 24





	We share

‘’Fuck.’’ Chuck flinched in his spot, almost jumping off the mattress at the noise of something breaking somewhere into his house. By the sound of it, it came from the living room. The phone was dropped from his hand, falling unceremoniously on his face, right on his nose, making a light groan pass his lips. ‘’Jeez...’’ He muttered at his own reaction, taking his phone off his face, throwing it on the mattress to the side. Slipping his other hand out of his pants, the man wiped his fingers on the bed’s covers.

He’s been a little busy, too busy to pay attention to his surroundings or the intrusion of his home, but now that he could feel it, his attention no longer caught by the obscene video that’s been playing before his eyes just moments ago, Chuck could only thank fate that the angel didn’t land in his bedroom. Feeling warmth bubble up under the collar of his t-shirt from the mere thought of it, the almitghty sucked in a deep breath, burying away the shame. 

Pushing the covers off of him, he planted his hands against the mattress and pushed himself up sitting, idly rubbing at the back of his head. His gaze lowered to his lap, an obvious bulge in his shorts telling him that he was in absolutely no shape to go and deal with the angel downstairs. However, Chuck shifted to the edge of the bed, bare feet touching the cold parquet before burying in fuzzy home slippers. He grabbed his bathrobe off the floor and tugged it on, wrapping it loosely around his waist to cover his groin. 

‘’For the love of me—‘’ Chuck muttered to himself, feeling his way around the dark room, his eyes not yet adjusted to it thanks to staring into a phone for the past few minutes. The past few pleasurable minutes, barely enough to satisfy him, but enough to leave him walking downstairs with an aching erection making him flinch with each step he descended towards the main hallway. It would go away soon enough, though, as long as he kept his mind off of it. 

He only wanted one night to himself – Hell, not even a night, not even a damned hour, just a few minutes to blow off some steam. In the mayhem that the whole Apocalypse was, Chuck barely got time to relax and, despite the thrill of being a main character in his own story provided him with, he couldn’t help but miss the lazy, lonely days sometimes.

Especially when he was in the need for a quick jerk off. 

‘’It’s 11:38 PM.’’ Chuck’s voice called from the entrance to the living room, standing in the doorway. There was a small amount of irritation in his voice, enough to make it pitch higher than usually, for oblivious reasons to the one before him. It wasn’t just the Winchesters barging into his home whenever they wanted to anymore (though they could be forgiven, being his main characters, having worked hard to develop them and, well, literally giving them the behavior they had), it was the angels, too, lately. And while Raphael was his guardian (despite his initial, heavenly job’s description never involved humans), Michael was the one visiting him most on the behalf of Heaven.

Because that’s how he reasoned his visits: on the behalf of Heaven.

‘’It is.’’ Michael’s voice came from one of the shelves, approving Chuck’s obvious statement without picking up to the undertones of his voice. Not picking up, or straight out ignoring them, as the prophet believed. His back was facing Chuck and there were the shards of a broken glass by his feet, on the parquet. So that’s what he heard crashing just moments ago. 

‘’Is that—that was from a fan.’’ Chuck pointed at the shattered glass on the ground and Michael merely looked down over his shoulder, as though only now acknowledging what he did. In his hand’s way to reach the backs of some books exposed on the shelf, his hand knocked over what was a small, ‘World’s best writer’, custom-made prize Chuck got at one of his first comic cons from a fan. And now, it was in pieces. ‘’Just. What do you want?’’ 

‘’Do I need to want something from you to come and see you?’’ Michael asked, finally turning around to face Chuck. He was wearing John Winchester again, a vessel he grew quite fond of. 

‘’It’s 11:38 PM, Michael.’’ Chuck repeated, entering the living room, instinctively tightening the robe around himself, folding his arms over his chest as he went to take a seat on the armrest of the nearest armchair. 

‘’You’ve said that before.’’ 

‘’Yeah—And I’ll say it again. It’s late. You wouldn’t come to me at this hour if you didn’t need something.’’ Chuck’s irritation grew with each word he spoke. Or was it frustration? It could be both, given the state he was in, the lack of blood flowing to his brain due to inhabiting other places at the moment, and the fact the Archangel before him feigned innocence. 

‘’It’s the only time of the day John isn’t occupied in.’’ Michael declared simply, still ignoring the annoyance in Chuck’s tone. 

‘’Oh.’’ His words, however, made some of it melt away from the prophet’s face, whose furrowed eyebrows relaxed. 

‘’Could have come earlier, but he was ... busy.’’ There it was, a small smirk tugging the corners of his lips upwards, as he approached the couch, taking a seat on the armrest, mimicking Chuck at the other side of the living room. He wasn’t even ashamed at the insinuation of his words, Michael being way past that kind of innocence. 

‘’Oh.’’ Chuck cleared his throat, one hand idly reaching up to scratch at his beard. He felt heat bubbling up under the collar of his t-shirt. That was information he... really didn’t want to know. Or to imagine. A lot of things made sense, now. From the messy state of Michael’s hair (which, usually, it was neatly combed and slicked back whenever he inhabited John), to the fact he seemed to be dressed in home clothes; a simple pair of gray sweatpants and a t-shirt. Michael didn’t seem to want to put the effort of playing dress-up with his vessels, not for quick visits on Earth, though.

He had to return John the way he took him, for the safety of the present they were in. The past was a fragile thing, easy to break in ways that could alter their current reality in horrific ways Michael didn’t want to imagine. So whenever he took John, he took extra care of him. He needed Dean Winchester and his brother to be born and, if that meant he had to be extra careful with John, he was willing to take the time. He wasn’t like his other brothers and sisters who would gladly leave a human crippled after a rodeo with their Grace. Unlike them, Michael was a good son. And a good son respected his father’s work. 

At the end of the day, when he was done with Lucifer, his Father would come back to Heaven and greet him as a victor. And his hands would be clean from any direct human blood getting on them from his own actions. The actions of his other brothers and sisters were theirs to accept the consequences for. He didn’t care. 

‘’But you’re right, Prophet. I did come for a thing. Nothing too much. Just a discussion. Like angel of Heaven, to man of Heaven.’’ Michael started, a small ‘I knew it’ passing Chuck’s lips with a sigh. The angel pushed himself up from the armrest, looking around himself at the prophet’s messy living room, as though he was in deep thought, trying to put some order in the ideas he had in his mind. It wasn’t often that Michael came without an already arranged speech in his mind. He liked being prepared, usually. 

It looked as though he didn’t know how to voice his thoughts, which was to be expected. Chuck regarded him rather cautiously, for Lucifer’s eldest brother could be as caustic as him. He followed Michael’s gaze towards where his study was, the wood of it barely visible under all the papers scattered on top, trying to figure out what was twirling in his mind. It wasn’t much until deep blue eyes settled on him, Michael taking a few more steps towards him.

Chuck pressed himself back, against the backrest of the armchair almost instinctively. He wasn’t afraid of Michael, why would he be? He created him – and, maybe, that was the reason for his fears. Because he knew what the Archangel was capable of (things Chuck couldn’t fight back, if he wanted to keep up the prophet persona). His reaction ripped a bemused smile from Michael, the taller looking him down. Tipping his head to the side, it wasn’t much until he cornered the prophet. Bending over enough to get at the same eye level with him, the angel pressed one hand on the armchair’s backrest, his forearm passing right by the side of Chuck’s face. His other hand propped itself down on the armrest that the prophet was rested on, right in between his parted legs.  
God didn’t realize he’s been holding his breath until he had to let it out, passing slightly parted lips in a shaky manner, mixing with Michael’s hot one. He was used to Lucifer’s cold skin radiating against him, having a warm body in such close proximity was... not necessarily new, but he hasn’t had that experience in a while. Michael’s always burnt hot.

‘’Um... I think I could have heard you from the couch, too?’’ Chuck tried, desperately pushing himself back against the armchair, but the more he did so, the closer Michael came. Was he trying to intimidate him? Because it worked for the sole reason that Chuck didn’t know what he had in his mind, and that he couldn’t act properly to protect himself from whatever was to come. And there was a pretty obvious erection in his pants that, for some Him damned reason didn’t go away.

‘’No, it’s not about that. But I want to make sure you don’t leave before you answer my question.’’ Curious blue eyes looked over Chuck’s body, noticing the smaller man continuously tug the bath robe around himself. Michael wet his lower lip once, his gaze meeting the prophet’s (making him seriously doubt all of his son’s feigned innocence to that point). ‘’Have you been seeing Lucifer all this time, as though I didn’t have ears and eyes everywhere to find out?’’ 

The words shook through Chuck’s body, sending a chill down his spine. Eyes widened and his lips parted to say something, but there was Michael’s warm finger pressing against his mouth, shushing him.

‘’And before you lie to me, Chuck.’’ He moved even closer, his hand leaving the armrest, coming to rest on the man’s soft thigh for support, the tips of their noses merely one inch apart, ‘’Raphael doesn’t only have the job to come when you are in danger. She’s watching you. And there have been more than one nights with power shortages, from what she said.’’ Michael tipped his head enough to be able to advance, his lips brushing ever so slightly over Chuck’s beard over their way to his ear. ‘’I assume that’s Lucifer’s fault.’’ 

By the time he pulled back, his finger has already slipped over the prophet’s lips, that hand coming to rest on Chuck’s other thigh. The man’s face was flushed. Busted. He was busted. And Michael’s hands were too close to his groin. Way too close to his groin. He swallowed thickly, a small noise passing him, as though to see if he could still talk anymore. 

‘’He’s been...’’

Michael cocked one eyebrow, face stern, as though daring Chuck to lie.

‘’-Visiting from time to time.’’ 

Michael’s jaw tensed and his lips pressed into a thin line. He didn’t look pleased by what he heard—heck, he didn’t feel pleased, for Chuck could feel the hold over his thighs tightening, fingertips pressing against the thin fabric. If there was any God he could pray to, Chuck would do it. Because there was no way his body was reacting well to whatever spell Michael had him under. 

‘’Have you been slipping information to him?’’ Bad news kept on pouring over Michael ever since the seals of the Cage started being opened, one by one. Ever since the Winchesters became a pain in the ass (though necessary pain in the ass, due to being their one true vessels). Ever since Lucifer got out and, now, ever since Chuck was betraying Heaven. And what for? What could the Devil offer, that Heaven couldn’t?

Definitely nothing that Michael himself couldn’t offer – and even more. 

‘’Wh—no!’’ It came stuttered from his lips and, no matter how truthful Chuck was in that moment, his body was not helping him much, not with the blush on his cheeks.

‘’Lies.’’

‘’I didn’t- I haven’t slipped anything, I mean.’’ Chuck swallowed thickly, pushing his hands together against his lap, keeping most of his robe crumpled there because God, he felt his cock throbbing. It was painfully hard yet again, despite having softened during their previous conversation. It was not right. It was the kind of reaction Lucifer managed to rip from him without even touching him and there Michael was, with John’s pretty eyes and his boyish smirk and Michael’s Grace behind his irises. ‘’My visions, uh... they-they come, I mean. They’re only bits and... and fragments. I don’t know the whole future, I... I wouldn’t aide him, I don’t want the end of the world. Obviously.’’ 

That ‘obviously’ meant nothing when he’s been bedding the Devil for weeks.

He did help Lucifer, in the beginning. Enough to win enough trust. He offered him small pieces of information; what ambuscade to avoid, where the Winchesters would strike next. Nothing big, to give him an upper hand against Michael, but nothing small so he’d come off as stalling. And nobody was injured, he took extra care of that. And it worked. Chuck easily crawled his way under his second eldest’s skin. At first, the intentions were innocent; have Lucifer trust him enough to listen to his opinions. To see humanity in another light. To give up on revenge. To avoid becoming the monster everybody made him be.

To prepare him for the day Chuck would reveal to him that he was God, and that he didn’t like the end he had planned for him eons ago. That he didn’t want the angel caged. He didn’t want him dead, either. To have him reach to God in other ways than through destruction and murder.

Well, that was in the beginning for, as Michael said, as time passed, power shortages started torturing the neighborhood... for reasons he wasn’t willing to say out loud, not in Michael’s face.

No, definitely not in the face that looked at him with so much suspicion. ‘’I know everything that’s going on between the two of you, Chuck.’’ 

‘’You... you do?’’

‘’Yes. What can he offer you that I can’t offer?’’

‘’N.. N-Nothing.’’

‘’Correct.’’

There were lips on his own. 

Warm, soft lips. Hesitant, almost, as though uncertain of whether what he was doing was necessary or not. It was the hesitant kiss of a beginner, but what he lacked in skill compensated in the need that soon followed. Pressure was added, Michael’s head tipping to the side for their lips to meet wholly and, if he didn’t know any better, he’d say he tasted the Divine on Chuck’s lips. 

There was shock that rushed through Chuck, mostly, mixed with the deep, nagging guilt that churned in the pit of his stomach whenever he got that close to Lucifer. It was wrong. As Michael pulled back due to the lack of response from the prophet, his eyes dulled with something akin to disappointment. He didn’t have Lucifer’s courage, no, not when it came to expressing... affection? No, that wasn’t affection. Feelings. He wasn’t good at showing feelings. He was God’s first creation, made in a haste. 

Abandoned in the same haste, when the second son was created.

‘’I want what you give him.’’ And whether he was talking about the information Chuck’s spilled to the Devil or the pleasurable moments together, God didn’t know.

There was a second kiss pressed on Chuck’s mouth, this time demanding, willing his eyes to flutter shut. His hands abandoned the robe he held tightly around himself, reaching forwards to finally touch his first Archangel. His fingertips barely grazed his jawline, feeling stubble tickle the tips of them. His mouth responded, slowly, tipping himself his head to the side to make his mouth more accessible, earning a delighted grunt from Michael.

There wasn’t much time to react. Michael’s hands left his thighs and sneaked under his ass. Within a second, he was lifted up like he weighed nothing (and he might as well weight nothing to a man built like John Winchester), pressed flush against the Archangel’s chest. His legs wrapped instinctively around his waist so he won’t fall, hands sliding from his jaw to his shoulders, arms wrapping around them for security. With the space in between them disappearing, there was a small noise of delight passing him, especially as his still hard length rubbed up against the waistband of Michael’s sweatpants. 

Breaking the kiss a moment later, hazy with the feeling of it, warmed up by Michael’s Grace that he could feel, he pulled back enough to look into his eyes. His mouth watered at the close sight of his first Archangel, able to see him clearly through his eyes. There was something burning deep inside them, hot and bothered, angry. Definitely no feeling worthy of an angel, let alone an Archangel, his first, virtuous and innocent one. The look in his eyes was one of a being who was willing to do just anything to win, to bring his Father back. Anything to secure his victory. Anything.

Their lips crashed again, forcefully this time, and it was Chuck’s teeth sinking hard into Michael’s lower lip, willing his mouth to part open. Their tongues met halfway in what had to be the angel’s first French kiss, enough to erupt a groan from the depths of his throat. 

‘’You’re hard.’’ Michael breathed against Chuck’s mouth.

‘’Yes.’’ God’s hand in the angel’s hair kept his head in place, so that they couldn’t part away.

‘’You’ve been hard all this time.’’

‘’Yes.’’

Chuck didn’t have the time to add anything else, his breath taken away by the angel’s hungry mouth. There was no need for any permission to be asked for, tasting each others’ mouths in one messy, sloppy kiss pouring with pent up need from each side. Michael walked backwards, knowing the way to the couch without even having to look over his shoulders. It wasn’t much until the back of his calves felt the edge of the couch and he dropped himself down, with the human comfortably settled in his lap, straddling it. 

Hands moved from Chuck’s ass to his hips, then down over his thighs, under the thick cloth of the bathrobe. Michael was curious, bringing his touch up over the slim waist and forwards to his chest, his hands reaching his shoulders, willing the bathrobe off of them. God took the signal and unwrapped his arms from around the Archangel’s shoulders, bringing them to his sides so that the robe could be tugged off himself. He heard the soft noise of it being thrown away, but didn’t mind looking where. 

‘’You belong to Heaven.’’ Michael whispered against his mouth, taking a quick second to look into his eyes before his mouth traveled over Chuck’s jawline, nipping the beard covered jaw, reaching his ear much like before. ‘’Never forget that.’’ He added, his breath hot as it pooled down over the shell of his ear and down the crook of his neck. His hands, no longer occupied with the robe, took a hold of Chuck’s before they could reach him again, holding them still behind his back, pressed to his lower back. 

‘’Tell me.’’ He demanded a warm, wet kiss pressing to the prophet’s earlobe, ripping a shaky sigh from him. Chuck’s head tipped to the side, exposing his neck to the angel as his hands barely tugged against the fingers tightly wrapped around his wrist. They made his back arch and chest press further against the brunet’s. There was a small, fruitless grind of his hips forwards, his erection meeting Michael’s hard abdomen. 

‘’I belong to Heaven.’’ His voice was shaky, barely passing his parted lips. 

A nip followed, Michael’s teeth teasing the lobe of his ear before moving to the soft spot of skin right under it. There was a testing bite to it, making the prophet tense up and his hands to give one more tug against the restraints, soothed by a hot tongue licking the abused spot. 

Chuck’s breath was shaky, rapid and shallow. The hands holding his wrist tugged him back, making the man’s back arch, his head tipping back, exposing his throat. Michael’s mouth dipped over his throat, feeling the prophet’s ragged breath as it explored lower, towards his collar bones. The man’s eyes were shut, lips slightly parted as he enjoyed the ticklish feeling of the other’s stubble grazing over his skin. 

‘’This is wrong.’’ He managed, after a while, a rather sharp hiss passing him as Michael’s teeth sunk into his collar bone, willed to leave a bright mark.

‘’Why.’’ His tone was demanding, breath hot against his skin, but it didn’t stop his tongue from dipping in between the small notch between his collar bones, lapping at it.

‘’You’re...’’ His son. Michael was his son, even if they weren’t related. Their vessels weren’t related, either, despite the bit of an age difference between them that didn’t seem to bother the Archangel. 

‘’An angel?’’ Michael tried, holding Chuck’s wrists together with one skilled hand, freeing the other so he could bring it in between them, taking a tight hold of the prophet’s jawline, urging their gazes to meet.

Blue met blue, one pair darker than the other’s, both their pupils wild with delight. There was no hiding the effect of what one had over the other. 

‘’An Archangel.’’ Chuck murmured, as though the conversation was deemed to remain private. It had to. He was God, and he was God who’s been messing around with Lucifer, too, for a while.

There was a white, perfect toothy grin spreading over the brunet’s lips, his hand bringing Chuck closer until the tips of their noses were almost touching. Michael licked his lower lip, a motion that had the fake prophet stare for a second. ‘’I’m curious if your... morale is the same with the Devil in between your legs.’’ Michael teased, though curiously. Humans were odd and peculiar, and he could see why such encounters with an angel might feel wronger than with the Devil himself. 

His fingers left Chuck’s jawline, brushing over his throat. Michael’s gaze not once left his own fingers, watching them trail their way over his neck, to his chest, Chuck’s nipples already hard and visible through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. They reached his soft stomach, then, as their gazes met, they slipped right under the cotton fabric, spreading over his belly. 

‘’Michael.’’ Chuck tensed up whole, the muscles of his abdomen hardening, half expecting cold fingers to graze the skin but no, they were warm. Warm and welcoming enough that God didn’t have to get used to them. They tugged his t-shirt upwards as they explored over his abdomen, sliding to the left to his side, over his ribs. 

Their gazes were connected, seeing the jealousy in Michael’s eyes slowly being fed.

‘’Don’t worry. We’re used to share.’’ 

That ripped a small moan from Chuck, especially as Michael’s thumb brushed over one hardened nipple, making his chest move forwards and into the touch. 

God couldn’t remember one time that Lucifer and Michael shared anything, let alone God. The Morning Star was possessive, unwilling to share any of his toys (or the gifts He spoiled him rotten with) and Michael was way too high above anything else, to consider that anybody else had his Father’s attention like he did. 

Both were right, though, and nobody was wrong. Michael’s always been God’s confident, listening to any problem, any worry, being there as an unmoved pillar in the Creator’s existence, and Lucifer’s been the beauty, the perfection he went to whenever he needed entertainment, whenever he needed to feel big. 

The Archangel seemed to be mesmerized by the reactions he could pull from the prophet in his lap. He felt his constant, shallow grinding in his lap and it wasn’t until he bucked his hips upwards that he ripped another, strangled groan from the smaller man. Letting go of his hands so he could use both of his them, he gripped the man’s t-shirt and pulled it over his head. He didn’t mind the arms that soon wrapped around his shoulders, or the lips pressing him forcefully back into the backrest of the couch. Michael hummed in delight, as his tongue played with Chuck’s, tasting him, twirling around it, eating up any noise that happened to muffle against his lips from the human. 

His hands felt down Chuck’s sides, reaching down his hips, moving behind to his ass, giving it a hesitant, first grip. It was the way the prophet hummed into the kiss that willed his hands to do it again, squeezing the soft cheeks clothed by his sweatpants. The prophet ground against Michael’s hips, hard and throbbing against his belly as he searched for friction. His arms around his shoulders, he scrapped his nails over his clothed shoulders, the other hand having a thick handful of his vessel’s hair.

‘’Take them off.’’ 

It wasn’t certain whether Chuck was referring to his pants, or the other’s. Michael got rid of both of them with a mere move of his fingers. It wasn’t much until the Archangel’s hands slipped under Chuck’s underwear, taking a hold of his soft cheeks, bringing their groins together.

Chuck could feel a growing hardness in the other’s pants, his own erection rubbing right against it, sliding through his boxer shorts. The pressure was welcomed, making him breathe for air as he parted from the kiss. One of his arms unwrapped from Michael’s shoulders, sliding one hand between themselves to reach the angel’s length, feeling his face burn at the size of it. A string of profanities left him as he palmed Michael through his boxers, feeling the brunet tense under his touch. 

Hands left Chuck’s ass, one of them coming to take a firm grip of the human’s jaw yet again, the prophet’s gaze snapping to meet Michael’s.

‘’Suck.’’ The order was clear as the index and middle finger of the other hand were pressed to his lips. 

God, was it wrong.

But God, did it feel right.

Chuck parted his lips, letting Michael’s fingers slip into his wet mouth. His tongue greeted them, swirling around them, coating them in as much saliva as needed. Their gaze wasn’t broken, God able to see the specks of race dancing in Michael’s dark eyes. He didn’t want to know where he learned that skill from, but his mouth was content sucking on his long fingers, keeping the lewd eye contact as though it wasn't their first time. It was when his hand slipped under the waistband of the Archangel’s boxer shorts that Michael groaned, the fingers Chuck’s been sucking one being taken out of his mouth with a thin string of spit still connecting his lips to them. Bringing them down, he slipped his hand back down into the prophet’s underwear.

And Chuck braced himself.

There was a gentle fingertip circling around his entrance, making the prophet bring himself up on his knees unconsciously, his forehead reaching forwards to press against Michael’s. It wasn’t much until one finger was eased inside of him, but he was quiet, biting down into his tongue, just a low hum passing his mouth at the intrusion.

It made his heart skip a few beats, his face burning as it moved inside him, testing the tightness of his insides and it wasn’t much until the prophet was lowering himself willingly on Michael’s long, thin finger.

‘’Good.’’ Michael breathed, pressing their lips together as a second finger slipped right inside Chuck, earning a more bothered, low groan, the man tightening up against his fingers. Michael moved didn't stop, making them slick, slicker than they would be just with Chuck’s saliva until they were easily slipping in and out of him. He didn't think his plan would go so smooth, but there they were, with Chuck fucking himself down on his fingers. It wasn’t much time until Chuck’s lips were mouthing profanities against his mouth, earning the prophet a third finger that had him straight out moan. 

The hand around Michael’s lenghth has long since lost its rhythm, small, thin fingers rubbing up and down over his shaft, feeling the pre-cum wetting the skin with the motion. It was the third finger that had his hand hesitate right as his thumb was teasing the tip, the prophet’s knees giving up as he sunk down onto the angel's fingers until he was deep to the knuckles.

‘’Fuck.’’ He muttered, feeling Michael’s thumb brush against his lower lip as he moaned. The fingers were gone soon, way too soon, making the smaller moan whine. ‘’Please.’’ He managed, his hand releasing Michael from the confines of his tight boxers. With his other hand, taking it from the angel’s shoulder, he reached down to him and tugged his underwear off enough to reveal his ass. It wasn’t much until he had the angel’s hot, thick length in between the crack of his cheeks, having him huff a breath of air against the angel’s mouth.

‘’Let me.’’ He begged, when he felt Michael tense under him, ready to grab him and keep his hands away. ‘’Please. Let me.’’ He voiced again against his mouth. ‘’Slick yourself up.’’ Despite being in a place for no demands, Michael obeyed. 

Rubbing the tip against his hole, he felt it become slippery against his fingers and it wasn’t much until Chuck tipped himself up on his knees, positioned the Archangel and, slowly, dipped himself down onto the tip of his cock. His mouth parted into a heavy moan, especially when he slid in, lowering himself down until he was comfortable in Michael’s lap, with the angel balls deep inside of him. More stretching should have been made, for it's been a while since Lucifer came to visit him and Michael was a whole different animal than his younger brother.

‘’Fuck.’’ It passed his mouth again, both hands coming up to cup Michael’s cheeks, holding him in place. He felt hands reach his hips and, despite the confidence from before, the breath puffing against his lips was shuddered. 

‘’Michael.’’ He whispered the Archangel’s name, waking him up from the daze that kept him still. Looking down into his eyes, they were deep pools of darkened need. There was a first, shallow thrust inside him that had him grunt with surprise. And a second, deeper one that parted his mouth enough for a breath. The third one lifted him up, Michael’s hands strong enough on his hips, to get him to the tip and lower him down on his shaft until he was sitting in his lap, erupting a light, bothered moan from the prophet, ass tightening up around his length. 

‘’Michael.’’ He said his name again, this time himself lifting up on his knees to lower himself back down, their ragged breaths mixing.

There was a low, stinging pain in his groin, but his ass adjusted well enough to the size intruding it. The hands on his hips slowly slid behind, to his ass cheeks, spreading them enough so more would fit inside him the next time Michael bucked his hips upwards, throwing the smaller man’s head backwards. 

‘’Who do you belong to?’’ Michael asked, voice husky and low as his mouth latched to Chuck’s exposed neck. 

‘’Heaven.’’ The word passed the prophet, albeit shakily, as his ass lowered again against Michael’s erection, filling him up to the brim.

‘’Wrong.’’ Michael growled, teeth sinking into the soft spot against his neck where he felt his fast pulse against his lips. 

‘’You.’’ God rectified, as Michael’s hips shot upwards, making him mewl in delight as he brushed against a certain spot.

‘’Fuck.’’ That had to be the first profanity he heard Michael say, and God felt like the Earth was swiped from under his feet. The Archangel pushed them both to the side, God laid securely on his back with the angel getting in between his legs, down against him, thrusting hard deep within him enough to make Chuck’s back arch, lips parting into a rather loud moan. 

‘’Just you.’’ He found himself saying again, legs wrapping around Michael’s waist, the angel’s hands leaving his ass, propping himself on his elbows, each by the sides of Chuck’s head against the couch’s cushions.

Who would have thought the missionary position could, out of a sudden, get that hot?

‘’No more Lucifer.’’ Michael breathed against God’s throat, making the man’s head tip back as he allowed the lips on his neck. ‘’You belong to Heaven. Prophet of the Lord—prophet of mine.’’ He breathed out, working on a pretty dark hickey to the side of his neck.

Chuck could barely manage anything coherent, his arms tight around the broad shoulders keeping him down, back arched against the cushions, hips bucking up to meat each and every one of the thrusts inside him. 

It wasn’t much until the angel started to straight out push Chuck's head back against the armrest, Michael’s hard, powerful thrusts bringing him close to it. 

‘’Yes.’’ He mewled, hands tangling in Michael’s thick hair, tugging on it hard enough to get his head back so their eyes met for a second. Just a second. Their lips met again, the kiss deepened and wet from the very beginning. His heels dug into the man’s lower back, one of God’s hands leaving his shoulder to come down and grab the firm ass pushing its length deep inside him, fingertips curling into firm muscle.

‘’Yes.’’ He moaned into the kiss, one of Michael’s hands brushing over Chuck’s ribs, onto his belly and over his side, to his lower back. That hand pulled him up and flush against him, his hips thrusting at a better angle than before, making the smaller man moan out in pleasure, throwing his head back.

‘’Right there—right there.’’ He whimpered, his fingertips dragging their nails from Michael’s ass to his lower back, then up his spine, earning a growl from the angel.

Pleasure built in the pit of their stomachs, Michael’s thrusts becoming quite erratic after a while as he willed himself to keep on concentrating on the deep warmth that was swallowing him whole. The man's ass was barely opposing any resistance, allowing the angel to slide in and out easily, propped up on his knees and holding him close enough to fuck inside him as his own will. Chuck’s noises were music to his ears and it wasn’t much until he was sure he won whatever unspoken race was in between him and Lucifer. 

He came, shooting his load deep inside the prophet, thanks to the man’s ass tightening around his length as he also came. The Archangel whimpered against Chuck’s warmth, sinking his teeth in the curve of his neck, fingers desperately tugging at his own, dark hair, ripping a few, painful strands with the prophet's shattered mewl. 

There was something warm and liquid in between their bellies, something that was Chuck’s spill, the smaller man trying to catch his breath underneath himself, his whole body quivering under Michael's weight.

Pulling back enough to meet his eyes, Michael gazed down into the soul with a bright, holy halo, knowing he tainted it beyond belief. And he wasn't even the Devil. As though someone read his mind, Chuck cupped his cheeks and forced their mouths together, Michael’s hips giving the last, few shallow thrusts of his hips before he finally pulled out.

Chuck let out a hiss, feeling warmth spill out of himself and the couch he fucked with Lucifer on, more than half a dozen times. Michael finally finished riding his orgasm, crushing down against him, his weight more than welcomed against the smaller man who welcomed him into his arms.

The kiss was broken, soon turning sloppy as Michael's head fell against the curve of Chuck's hot neck. Both were struggling to find their breaths, but strong arms sure enough wrapped around the writer's waist. The position was changed soon, with Michael resting on his back, naked from his waist down, except from his underwear hanging by his thighs. Chuck was tightly held up against his chest, the prophet resting against it with both his hands on his chest. 

It wasn't much until warm hands started brushing up the smaller's back, soothing whatever feelings were rushing through him, much calmer, gentler fingertips tracing the straight outline of his spine. They still managed getting goosebumps from him, Chuck still needing a few more moments to come to his senses. 

''From now on, you report to me.'' Michael's voice was gathered after a few long moments, but his tone was light with relief. The soldier of Heaven couldn't forget his intentions even after such interactions, it seemed.

God was proud of his creation.

''A..A-Alright.'' 

Did Chuck just get himself in Heaven's biggest fight for dominance?

Shit.

**Author's Note:**

> Exam period.  
> Enjoy this until I'm done!  
> Also, I'm willing to take requests! (M/M, Reader/Character, F/M, F/F, multipair, etc!)


End file.
